"I don't see what other proof she can have," said the barrister, shrugging his shoulders.
"It's impossible--it's impossible, I tell you," cried Monteith, vehemently; "his wife might have killed him, but she was not a Miss Cotoner."
"The evidence both of the Divorce Court and Mrs. Taunton says she was."
"But she cannot be the sister of Carmela."
"I cannot say there may be more Cotoner families than one in Malta; but still, Vassalla's name being mixed up in it seems to point out that she might be."
"I won't believe it till I hear the truth from her own lips."
"You will ask her, then?"
"No!"
"That's a mistake; you'll only torture yourself till you get a satisfactory explanation."
Monteith flung himself back in his chair with a low moan, his bright young face looking pinched and haggard in the dim light, and at this moment Mrs. Taunton entered the room, carrying a desk in her hands.